Your fan club.
Blame Art Linkletter -Blame House Party – Blame your school.
You got picked out of hundreds – you won a raffle – you were going to be famous.
Your principal bragged – kept patting you on the head – kept messing up your hair. You wanted to throw up.
Of all the elementary schools in L.A. – On TV – In color. In every living room in America – your face – funny lines – embarrassed. Millions watching. Shaking like a Richter scale.
A Bell & Howell Projector for the school.
A Schwinn Stingray for you – Barbies for the girls. Girls weren’t happy.
Kind of like Christmas, only you needed a personality.
They gave you one. You were supposed to memorize a script. Clever lines.
When the time came you forgot everything – even your own name.
Art Linkletter looked creepy – smiling and grinning like the insane guy who lived next door.
He asked you something – you saw his lips move, you couldn’t hear anything.
You froze – deer in headlights.
Out came a language you never heard before. Sounded like a toss between Nikita Khrushchev and Elmer Fudd.
Art was stunned – the audience roared – you had no idea your mouth was moving like that.
Five minutes and you were history – famous was over.
Next day. Three girls – fifth grade – love eyes.
They looked at you like Ben Casey.
They sat next to you at lunch – they stared holes through you.
They asked about your hair. They asked what you food you liked.
They asked if you had a girlfriend. They asked if you French-kissed.
They were up to something. In ten years you would call them sweet – at the moment you felt strange.
They followed you home from school. Your mother thought they were cute and you should be flattered.
You were, but . . .
A week later the new guy showed up. Family moved from Boston – same grade as you. First day – new school.
Hair like Frankie Avalon. Big teeth.
You were old news.
Fan club evaporated – no longer the right time of day.
On to greener pastures. He was flattered.
You were jealous. You were confused.
You now knew was fickle was all about – even if you did get a crush for the girl on the right.
File for future reference. Next lifetime.
In the meantime – to accompany the sound of growing pains; a half hour’s worth of Bobby Dale at KFWB from April 7, 1963.
